


Jupiter Crash

by atrata



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, Pegging, bruiseplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-01
Updated: 2010-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-17 06:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2300138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrata/pseuds/atrata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a bruise across his ribcage, a mottled purple mess, yellow-green around the edges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jupiter Crash

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Падение Юпитера](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12007413) by [fandom_All_Avengers_and_MCU_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_All_Avengers_and_MCU_2017/pseuds/fandom_All_Avengers_and_MCU_2017), [littledoctor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledoctor/pseuds/littledoctor)



> Title from the Cure song, because I am still 15, and at some point in the last week Tony Stark and Robert Smith grew some kind of emotastic connection in my head that now I cannot get rid of. Great!

There's a bruise across his ribcage, a mottled purple mess, yellow-green around the edges. An i-beam, he tells her, an earthquake in Peru. He'd stayed as long as he could, he'd sifted through rubble for four days straight, and then there was a forest fire up in Nova Scotia, burning too furiously for the airtankers to get in, and they'd needed him. Before the earthquake, he'd been somewhere in Africa -- he wouldn't say where -- doing something -- he wouldn't say what -- with some people. Pepper doesn't bother asking who. She hasn't seen him in two weeks, except on the news. It's 4.54 on a Tuesday morning, and he's in the kitchenette of the shop with a scotch in one hand and a bottle of Percocet in the other. His sweatpants are riding dangerously low on his hips, and Pepper can't stop looking at that bruise. She thinks the heel of her hand would cover the worst of it.

"Come here," she says. She's going to be late for work.

Tony's eyes look like bullet holes in his face, dark and shot through with blood, and he washes three pills down with three fingers of scotch before he even tries to smile at her. "Miss me?" He starts walking, though, does exactly what she tells him to, even if he's a bit unsteady on his feet. Too much time in the suit does that to him.

"How much have you had to drink?" she asks.

He doesn't answer, just keeps walking. He gets inside her personal space and walks some more, and Pepper backs up, finds herself crowded against the glass door of his shop. He plants his palms on either side of her head and leans in close. He doesn't touch her. He isn't moving quickly. She could leave easily enough, but she doesn't want to. _Two weeks_ , she thinks. _An i-beam_. He tilts his head and bends like he's about to kiss her, but he stops with their lips a few millimeters apart. "You tell me," he says, and exhales into her mouth.

Pepper breathes in, tastes the scotch and something else, and that's probably as much of an answer as she's going to get. "You should have called me," she says, her voice almost a whisper. She leans back to get a better view of his face, then lays her hand over his ribcage and glances down. One slight adjustment, and she's right: The heel of her hand does cover the worst of the bruise. She presses on it and Tony inhales sharply, his jaw clenching. He leans into it, though, bends his arms like he's doing a push-up against the glass, and Pepper keeps pushing. She doesn't jab or poke or thrust, just a steady unrelenting pressure until -- there. Until the pain on his face morphs into pleasure, until those harsh lines etched into his skin relax and his eyes fall shut and his mouth falls open, and then she leans in and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him.

"Bedroom," she says into his mouth, and one of his hands slides into her hair and the other slides into her pants.

"Right here," he says back, and he twists his hand and bites her tongue and then he's got two fingers inside her, a fast sharp burn she wasn't ready for, stretching her and filling her and flooding her. He starts to laugh, but she's still got her hand on that bruise, and she shoves at it until he drops his head back with a groan, his eyes wide and unseeing. His fingers inside her go still.

"If that's what you want," she says, and she watches his throat as he swallows. There's a cut there, not long but deep, still swollen, five dark stitches. Her stomach twists. "What happened here?" She asks, and puts two gentle fingers against it like she's taking his pulse. It's steady underneath his skin, sped up by desire and slowed down by alcohol, and he gasps as she presses around the edges of the cut. The heel of her other hand's still grinding against his ribs, working the bruise.

"I don't know," he says, and she pushes harder, puts some strength into it. Gives him a little fingernail, follows it with her tongue. It tastes like antiseptic, mostly, with just a hint of blood. "Fuck, Pepper." He takes his hands off her and braces his forearms against the glass on either side of her head. There's no space between them now, not really, her hand digging into his bruise and his erection digging into her hip, and she scrapes her teeth over the cut on his neck and steps sideways, scoots underneath the cage of his arms and steps behind him.

His back's a mess, and Pepper has to stop and close her eyes and catch her breath. That bruise wraps around his ribcage, fading slightly and then darkening to an almost navy blue over his kidney. His right shoulder blade lost a layer of skin and it's barely started healing, the gritty wood-grain lines of the newly formed scabs saying 'road rash' clearly enough. There are old bruises under new ones, two more cuts with at least ten stitches each, a burn on the back of his neck. She covers it with her mouth, the skin there soft and shining pink, and Tony drops his head to his arms with a groan.

He squirms against the glass as her fingers trace the other injuries, prod at the bruises and skim over his stitches, trace the outline of the scabs. "Well? What happened?"

"Boring," he says, which means it was bad, and then he tries to distract her. He shifts against the glass so he's only leaning on one arm, and he brings his other hand to his mouth. "I think you missed me," he says, sucking on the two fingers he had inside her, his mouth open and his tongue flashing, making lewd noises as he licks them clean. "What do you think?"

"Maybe a little," she says, and kneels to pull his sweatpants off. He's helpful, lifting one foot at a time, and she runs her hands up the insides of his legs, spreading them as she stands.

"What about you?" he asks. His voice sounds thick and sleepy and like he took too many painkillers.

"Don't worry about me," she says. There's lube in her purse, lube and a strap-on, and she's trying to ignore the desire slamming through her body, the throbbing pressure between her legs, but it's a losing battle. "I'm fine. I brought you something."

"Hm?" He opens one eye and looks over his shoulder. Pepper holds up the strap-on, dangles it by the harness from her index finger. "That's very sweet of you, Potts," he says. It takes him about two seconds. "I accept." He drops his head back to his arms, and Pepper wonders how long he's going to be able to stay standing.

She leaves her clothes on. She fits the harness over her pants, uses way too much lube, runs her slicked-up fingers over his ass and his cock as her other hand presses against bruised ribs and healing cuts, as her mouth works its way over scabs and stitches and burns. The heels put her at the perfect height for this, and she sucks on the burn on the back of his neck and wraps an arm around his stomach as she slides the dildo in. It goes in easily. It's not very big, and Tony's body is too-relaxed and pliant, barely upright between her and the glass.

He keeps himself braced with one arm and jerks himself with the other, his hand moving lazily over his cock as Pepper fucks him slowly. It's quiet, just the slick slide of skin and silicone and Tony's gasps when she gets the angle right and hits his prostate. It's also a little frustrating, the angle of the base against Pepper's clit not quite right to get her off, but then he spread his legs a little more and she has to angle down, and that does it, that starts the pressure slamming through her body again, and she fucks him harder, faster, trying to get more.

Tony comes before she does. He gets impatient, grabs one of Pepper's hands and wraps it around his dick, uses his own hand to guide hers. She squeezes, hard, and she twists her wrist on the downstroke, and she pumps her hips as hard as she can, and she tongues at the stitches in his neck, and when he comes, she's afraid he's going to collapse on top of her.

He doesn't, though, he sags against the glass, his body shaking, and he spreads his legs and mutters, "Come on, Potts, is that all you've got?" and she grabs his hips and slams in and in and in until the pleasure crashes over her. _Then_ he collapses on top of her.

Tony doesn't seem to care, but the shop floor isn't particularly comfortable, and as soon as Pepper comes down and catches her breath, she shoves at Tony's shoulder and tries to stand up. He groans and throws an arm over his face. "I feel so used," he says, and Pepper rolls her eyes. "I can't believe you didn't even take your pants off."

"Well, I'm going to now," she says. She can't go to work covered in lube.

"Oh," he says, and pushes himself into a sitting position. "Why didn't you say so? I might need a minute, though." He gestures at his spent cock.

"You don't need a minute," she says. "You need a week and more than ten minutes of sleep."

"Can't," he says, yawning, but he lets her pull him to his feet, heads upstairs to the bedroom. "I have a thing on Friday. With, uh, some guys. In a place."

"Good thing it's Tuesday. Come on, move. I don't want to be late for work."

"You won't be," he says, falling into bed, and he's passed out on his stomach before she even gets out of her clothes.

It's a half-hour drive to the office from Tony's place, and the news anchor on NPR says _landslides_ and _casualties mounting_ and some diplomat says _Iron Man_ , and Pepper pulls the car to the side of the road and stares at her hands, and she's 20 minutes late to work after all.

**FIN.**


End file.
